


You and Mystery

by petaldancing



Category: Hyouka & Kotenbu Series
Genre: Detective AU, Gen, Its a mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petaldancing/pseuds/petaldancing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Miss Mayaka, you never let up, do you?" - Mayaka, Satoshi, detective AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was totally winging this, never read an english detective novel in my life, and this is set around the 1920s in an alternate japan (where the military police weren't in power), and this was written super casually; if none of that deters you i hope you will enjoy reading this, thank you very much!! I will write more serious stuff after this semester is over!

 

 

(1)

"Hold it!"

The man turned around, the painting tucked snug under his arm. His expression turned thoughtful as he continued to run. "Well, I am!" he finally answered, gesturing to the stolen art piece.

What an incredible amount of cheek. Mayaka couldn't find an appropriate answer that didn't involve firing a barrage of expletives at him. She didn't feel like replying to begin with since she was so out of breath. She was a detective, not an athlete! Those were two very different things! Still, her feet didn't stop pounding against the pavements as she gave chase. 

"Stop with the pleasantries and just turn yourself in!" she shouted.

The thief looked over his shoulder with a wide smile. "That would be boring."

Mayaka's jaw tightened as they rounded a corner that led down yet another alleyway. There were criminals who did what they did because of uncontrollable greed, calculative revenge, vicious hate, twisted morals, or a sum of all of them. Satoshi Fukube was just  _bored_. 

She gave an inward sigh of relief as the alley ran to a dead end. Finally. She'd been on the Fukube case for a month and had finally managed to catch him in the act - she hadn't expected him to be such a young man, but that didn't change a thing - he wasn't about to get away from her. Mayaka caught up as Fukube gradually slowed from a jog to a merry, taunting sort of gait as he neared the end of the alley.   

"Fukube, give it up!" She pointed at him as he turned on his heel to face her. He seemed to be about her age, in his early twenties, and with such a friendly disposition, it made it hard to believe that he was a thief. Behind that too-cheerful smile was someone who had stolen three art pieces from private collections in the last month. She was about to stop him from chalking a fourth to that score. 

In response to her exclamation, Fukube held one hand up, like a student preparing to ask a question in class. Mayaka was thrown off by that, and her confusion seemed to delight him as he asked, "May I know your name?" 

"Mayaka Ibara," she said without hesitation. 

He seemed bemused as he shifted the painting from under one arm to the other. "Miss Mayaka, are you intending to get me to return the painting? I'm afraid that's not going to happen, at least, not tonight. There would be no suspense in that."

" _Suspense?_ " she repeated in disbelief. "How can that possibly be a motive?" 

Fukube's mouth was agape. "It's rather cruel for you to put it that way."

Mayaka planted her feet firm on the ground and stared him down. "I'm not trying to be nice."

He began to laugh, but Mayaka refused to be distracted. She slipped a hand into her coat pocket as Fukube adjusted the brim of his hat and suppressed his laughter. 

"Of course, of course. You're right. I'm sorry for laughing. You're just very honest," he said, bowing in an apology Mayaka didn't believe.

"Anyone would be honest compared to you, Fukube," she pointed out. "Now, come quietly."  

"I understand... " Fukube said as he stepped closer to her. Mayaka was surprised that he was being so cooperative - well, from the crimes he'd committed, he didn't seem to be one of the more complex criminals. He'd been cautious the first three times, stealing paintings before anyone could notice, but his inflated ego had coaxed him to try stealing the fourth art piece right from under the nose of its owner. That was the only reason Mayaka had been informed and had arrived to the scene in time to spot him and give chase.

She took the handcuffs out of her coat pocket as he held his wrists out to her. 

" - but I've got places to be!" 

The handcuffs had clicked shut, but Fukube's body was lurching away and it was then that she realised that the handcuffs were on her. 

" _Fukube!_ "

"Bye, Miss Mayaka!"

 

 

(2)

"You're not going to give up on this case, are you?"

She spared the man one icy glare. Mayaka wiped the hair out of her eyes before returning to the documents and case files piled open all over her desk. "Of course not. I'm not like you," she said. Statistically speaking, Oreki had a perfect record of solving cases, but he always went on about how if a case got too troublesome to handle, he'd pass it over to someone else. That was what irritated Mayaka the most about him - which wasn't to say that that was the only thing she found irritating about him. 

"You make it sound like being me is a bad thing, Ibara," Oreki muttered into his cup of coffee. 

"That's my intention," she said without missing a beat. Mayaka groped around under the clutter for her own mug as she read a police report. When she found it, she thrust it in Oreki's direction. "Since you're not doing anything, help me refill it."

Oreki only hesitated for a second. He sighed as he took the mug and trudged across the office to the pantry. On his journey there, Sawakiguchi requested for him to help her refill hers as well. "Oh and get some biscuits if you don't mind! I'm feeling peckish," she sang out. 

By the time Oreki returned to Mayaka's desk, he was visibly withered down. 

"Much obliged," she said, content that she now had a cup of coffee filled to the brim and a tormented Houtarou Oreki.

She shifted her attention back to the map of the city and the prominent art collectors in the area. She still couldn't figure out where Fukube was going to strike next. He didn't seem to show favouritism between paintings or artists, but she knew better than to assume that Fukube was stealing paintings off the top of his head. But the more she pictured him in her mind, the more convinced she was that he was like a child who played with one toy until he was bored of it and simply moved onto the next one that had happened to catch his attention. 

Oreki leaned against her desk and studied the details. After awhile, he tapped his index finger on one of the markings she'd made. "There." 

She inspected the coordinates but wasn't able to figure out how he came to that conclusion. "How do you know?" she asked.

The man pulled at his bangs. "He's doing it in order."

Mayaka stood up, thinking that it would provide her with a better view. She even shooed Oreki away so that she could stand at his spot and look at the map from his angle. On the tips of her toes, she still couldn't make sense of it. "... What order?" 

"They're all primes," Oreki explained. That was when Mayaka realised he was referring to street numbers. Fukube only stole from art dealers and private collectors who were on prime-numbered streets.

Prime numbers. She thought about it as she grabbed a marker to circle out all the narrowed possibilities, grudgingly thanking Oreki. 

 

 

(3)

Fukube entered the room through the open window with practised ease and a pleased grin. When he saw that she was waiting for him, he sounded not surprised but  _happy_  of all things. "Miss Mayaka! Fancy meeting you here!"

She tugged on the lapel of her coat, determined not to be toppled off guard this time. "There's nothing fancy about it," she said from one corner of the room. The room was dim, the only source of light coming from the line of street lamps outside and the crescent moon. As she walked forward, she had to manoeuvre between the outlines of numerous statues and complicated art pieces of Haba's collection. These were all valuable works of art he'd imported from the West - and yet Fukube was ignoring them and inching closer to a painting on the wall. 

"I didn't expect you to be one step ahead," he said. 

Mayaka sighed. "You're not a terribly difficult person to understand. Don't give yourself so much credit." 

"I don't," Fukube answered curtly. "But aren't you being just a tad too brutal?" he chuckled. 

"Do you realise what position you're in now, Fukube?" she reminded him.

He folded his arms. "Miss Mayaka, you never let up, do you?" 

"Not really," she said, shrugging her shoulders as she moved in front of the window to block his escape, knocking against a wooden stand. She steadied the flower vase resting on it before it could fall onto the floor. The sunflower's petals were soft against her fingers. "Most people don't like that about me." 

"I like that about you," Fukube said, " - Mayaka."

She couldn't believe this person. "Don't call me that! We're not friends!" If he thought he was going to get away with sweet talk, he was gravely mistaken. Mayaka had long outgrown any desire to be liked or be complimented by others. She couldn't depend on empty words to give her value or make her happy. It'd been a long time since anyone had called her by her first name, and a long time since she'd felt genuinely happy about anything.

She looked back at Fukube, and there he was, smiling away. Her fingernails pressed against her palm.   

"I suppose not," the young man agreed as he unhooked the painting with a composure Mayaka had expected from him. "But, I don't think we're really enemies either."

She didn't have the luxury or patience to contemplate grey moralities. "If that's how you think, then turn yourself in now and we can talk about it on our way to the station."

"That makes sense," Fukube hummed.

She leaned against the windowsill and massaged the knot between her eyebrows. "I don't understand you at all, Fukube," she said flatly. 

He chuckled once more. 

"'Know what, Mayaka? Neither do I."

 

 

(4)

Oreki examined the broken vase on the floor of the room. "Fukube seems like a violent person," he commented.

"I was the one who broke that," Mayaka said with a shake her head. 

"Ah. Everything makes sense now."

Mayaka glared hard at the man, who shrank back in response. "Investigation. I was referring to the investigation," Oreki mumbled, sniffing because of the cold winter breeze the open window was letting in. 

She harrumphed and crossed her arms. Haba hadn't been pleased to find out that not only had one of his paintings been stolen, but a pricey flower vase had become a casualty in the process. She'd apologised, but frankly, Haba creeped her out. Who in their right mind would display all their treasures in one room, anyway? Show-offs just made the job for people like Fukube easier. 

Oreki cleared his throat. Mayaka raised her eyes from the carpeted floor and nodded at him. 

"You cornered Fukube, but he was being difficult. You broke the flower vase to distract him, but that backfired when he capitalized on it as a chance to escape. Probably when Haba heard the sound and came to unlock the door." Oreki had a hand on his chin. 

"I'll get him next time," Mayaka said. She took a deep breath and tried to expel all her frustration as she exhaled. No good. She still felt a knot in her gut. "If you hadn't been so lazy and agreed to come and help me, maybe things would've turned out differently," she added sharply. 

Oreki seemed to consider this. "I'll help. Fukube has piqued my interest."

Mayaka picked up the lone sunflower on the floor. It felt cold and sticky in her hands.  

 

 

(5)

"G'morning, Ibara!" Sawakiguchi greeted her as she arrived to work one morning.  "We just got a call - looks like another painting's turned up. It was found near a bakery this time. I'll write down the address for you." 

Mayaka didn't understand what Fukube was doing. Instead of selling off the paintings, he left them lying around a month or so after he stole them. His actions made no sense. 

"Oreki!" she called out to him as she approached his desk. He blinked vaguely at her, stuck in a drowsy state of being. He only ever seemed to be properly awake after ten in the morning. "Can you go and fetch the painting this time? I've got work to do."

The man grunted. Mayaka assumed that was a 'yes', and even if it wasn't, Oreki didn't have much of a choice. She unpacked the contents of her briefcase and began to formulate the next stakeout.  

 

 

(6)

"It appears you have me all figured out," Fukube said with a candid smile. Their third meeting was below the open window of an art dealer's shop. 

Mayaka felt the frustration bubble and froth in the middle of her chest, and she clung hard and tight to her composure. "I didn't expect you to actually to turn up. Wouldn't a seasoned criminal know when to change patterns?" 

"I suppose I'm stubborn like that," Fukube said with a carefree wave of his hand. "You're an awfully stubborn person too, Mayaka."

He spoke as if he knew what kind of person she was, and the thought nibbled at Mayaka more than it was supposed to. She shook it off and advanced towards him. Fukube backed up with every step she took, holding the painting behind his back. "Fukube, you're smarter than this." As unhappy as she was to admit it, it was the truth. "Why're you here?" 

Fukube's happiness didn't dissipate. If anything, he seemed more eager than ever. "What if I said it was because of you?" 

"You're a terrible liar."

"And you never pull any punches."

Mayaka checked the time on her wristwatch. Not yet. She had to stall him. 

"Let's make a deal," she offered.

That seemed to catch Fukube's attention. "You're going to have to offer up something hefty if you want me to return this," he referred to the painting.

"That's not what I want," Mayaka told him simply. She revelled at the shock that took over Fukube's expression for a split second. It was a tiny victory after what seemed like a neverending succession of frustrations and failures. She straightened her back, confidence renewed, if only a little. "I want you to tell me why you're doing this." 

Fukube scrunched his eyebrows. "I thought we  _ran_  through this before," he couldn't help but chuckle at the joke. Mayaka sighed disapprovingly.

"Life is boring. I'm just trying to add a bit of colour into it. I don't want to lead a boring, grey life." He gazed at the painting in his hands. "I'm drawn to colours and beautiful things." As he finished saying this, he stared at her. Mayaka turned her head away, deflecting whatever meaningful look he was attempting to show her and glancing at her watch.

"So, have I won your sympathy?" 

"Not even a little."

"I'm not surprised," Fukube said. "So, what do I get in return for baring my soul?"

"I'll let you off this time," Mayaka told him. 

"Pardon?" the man took a few steps closer to her, and she edged away in response. 

"I said I'll left you off! You don't need to come so close!"

Fukube retreated back with a short laugh. "This is unexpected, Mayaka. You've always been so tough on me," he said. 

"Then you shouldn't be testing my patience," she warned him. 

The corner of Fukube's lips twitched up. "I know how to pick my battles. Well, I'll leave you for tonight, then. Farewell, Mayaka!"

Mayaka waited. She smirked as Fukube turned the corner, unsuspecting. 

"Got you."

 

 

(7)

When she saw Oreki walking up from the other end of the alley empty-handed, and Mayaka felt a cold dread wash all over her. 

"Where's Fukube?" he asked. 

Mayaka was alarmed. She gripped his arm with both her hands and shook vigorously. "I should be asking you that! I sent him your way just like we planned!" 

When she grew tired of shaking him and relented, Oreki shook his head as he adjusted his collar. "He didn't come that way." 

"You were late, weren't you? Or are you just too embarrassed to admit that Fukube outsmarted you?"

If Oreki was offended, his numbed expression didn't show it. "I wasn't," he informed her.

Whatever the reason was, Fukube had now managed to get away with his sixth piece of stolen art. Mayaka clutched the sides of her head with her hands and lowered herself into a squat along the side of the street. She still didn't know what it was about Fukube that made her so riled up, didn't understand why Fukube had even showed up tonight, and couldn't see how Oreki could have missed him. 

She knew at least one thing, though. 

"Irisu-san is going to be so mad." 

"Good luck with that."

 

 

(8)

Irisu's back was facing her as she entered the office. Mayaka stood still and refrained from fidgeting with the sleeve of her shirt. The room was neat and spotless with a few awards of merit and recognition pinned beautifully against the wall, a reflection of its owner. Mayaka's own desk was flooded with newspaper clippings, blurry photographs, and crumpled documents. She wondered what that said about her. 

"Ibara, the Fukube case still hasn't made any progress," Irisu said as she turned around and gestured for her to take a seat. 

"Not yet," Mayaka admitted, lowering her gaze. "- But trust me, it will soon!" she insisted, gripping onto the armrests. 

Irisu didn't laugh or roll her eyes at this, but her nonchalance was just as unsettling. She sat down and took a sip of tea. "You know what kind of reputation we have here, don't you?"

"Yes, Irisu-san. No cases have been left unsolved for the last five years." Mayaka had only been here for a little over a year, but she knew that Irisu's family had gone through great pains to boost the reputation and status of the agency. Though most crimes were still handled by the police, the Irisu Detective Agency had had its share of action over the past few years. Apart from private requests, the Fukube case was one of several other minor cases the police occasionally threw at them to deal with. Still, because most of their employees were women, they had their fair run-in with difficult clients and obstinate policemen - Irisu seemed bent on mowing those prejudices aside. Mayaka admired that about Irisu. It was one of the few things Irisu showed emotion about. 

"Right. So, we're going to need some changes," as she said this, Irisu retrieved a file from under her desk. It took Mayaka a moment to realise that it was the file for employment and working records. 

Mayaka was quick to react. "Irisu-san, I know I haven't been up to par, but let me try. I haven't given up on the case yet," she said as she clenched her hands on her lap. "I... I won't ever give up on it." There was something exceedingly frustrating about Fukube - she couldn't explain it, but, this was a score she had to settle and a mystery she had to solve no matter what. 

Irisu tilted her head, her facial expression shifting only slightly. Mayaka wondered if that was how her boss looked when she was surprised. "Oh, no, I'm not taking you off the case. Don't be mistaken. Fukube likes you. You're the only one he's ever engaged contact with. It would be unwise me me to remove our main lead to him," Irisu said as a matter of factly. 

Mayaka didn't know how she felt about being likened to bait.

"I was intending to assign our new detective to help you."

She blinked. "Oreki's replacement?"

Speaking of Oreki, Mayaka was still upset by his sudden decision to quit his job. Sure, a character like him was never suited for any sort of work, but she had to grudgingly admit that his brain was as smart as it was allergic to hardwork. Last week, he stopped turning up to work for three days straight, and just when they considered paying him a home visit, in Oreki stepped on the fourth day with a cardboard box to collect the clutter on his desk. 

He handed in a withdrawal form, said a monotonous goodbye to the office, and walked out as sluggishly as usual. It was such a sudden departure. In the secret privacy of her thoughts, Mayaka knew she was disappointed that she hadn't gotten to bid a proper farewell to him. Not to mention how conveniently he'd forgotten all about his promise to work with her on the case - the nerve of him, who did he think he was? Next time she saw Houtarou Oreki, she was going to give him a piece of her mind. 

Irisu found the resume she was looking for in the file. "Yes. Here, this is her." 

Mayaka leaned forward to get read the person's name.

"... Eru Chitanda."

 

 

(9)

Chi-chan was a godsend. A refined, cheerful godsend. She overcompensated for Oreki's absence just by being who she was. She was a diligent woman who was as equally new to the business as Mayaka herself. She was the type of person who wrote reminders on the palm of her hand and nodded her head as you talked and she made the warmest, most calming tea Mayaka had ever tasted.

"Maya-chan, are you tired?" Chi-chan asked her late one night. "Perhaps we should continue in the morning?"

Mayaka rubbed the heel of her hand against her eyes. "I'm almost done with work." She scanned the office. The only desk lamps on were the hers and Chi-chan's. The rest of the agency had clocked out three hours ago. "You didn't need to stay with me," Mayaka said sheepishly, twiddling her thumbs. 

Chi-chan smiled in that graceful, kindly way of hers. "It was my pleasure. Besides, I've managed to catch up with the Fukube case." She waved the file she held in her hands as evidence. "We only managed to get so much information on him because of you, Maya-chan. I'll try my best to help you! We'll catch him together!"

Her energy and optimism was almost contagious. Mayaka leaned back against her chair and hoped for the best. "We will."  

 

 

(10)

The ring of the telephone woke Mayaka up from the unplanned nap she'd been taking on her work desk. She staggered across her living room, wiping her mouth against the back of her hand. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was just past midnight.

"Maya-chan!" Chi-chan's voice was loud through the receiver, startling her. "It was just as we thought! I saw someone sneaking into Juumonji-san's private gallery! Quickly now! It'll take them at least ten minutes to retrieve the painting. Juumonji-san is very meticulous about her possessions."

She wanted to ask what Chi-chan was doing there in the first place, but that could wait. "I'm on the way!"

Mayaka grabbed a coat off the hanger and dashed out of the apartment.

 

 

(11)

 She crept up the quiet street, finding Chi-chan sitting in a tiny black coupe.

 "He's still inside," she whispered as Mayaka sat down beside her.

 "That's good - but what were you doing here?" Mayaka asked her. "We thought that Fukube was going to strike next week."

 "I was... curious. I wondered if maybe he was going to break his pattern," the woman was abashed as she spoke. "And you've been working late the past week, Maya-chan. I didn't want to trouble you."

 She rapped her knuckles lightly against Chi-chan's forehead. "We're a team. I wouldn't have minded."

 Her partner smiled. "You're right. And now that there's two of us, we'll get him this time!"

 Just as Mayaka nodded in agreement, she noticed movement on the other side of the road. Fukube was out, and he had a painting with him as usual. "Don't start the engine. It's too noisy," as she said this, Mayaka got out of the coupe. She cursed when Fukube, who had been looking in a completely different direction, snapped his eyes towards her and broke out into a run.

 " _Fukube!_ " Mayaka yelled before charging off in the direction he was headed.

 "Maya-chan! There's someone else!" Chi-chan called out from behind her, Mayaka looked over her shoulder but didn't stop running. She saw that a second figure was escaping the opposite way. "I - I'll go after t-!" The sound of the coupe's engine roaring to life drowned out the rest of Chi-chan's words.

 Mayaka kept her eyes pinned on the strange accomplice. Her eyes widened as she recognised the slouch of his back.

 "Oreki?”

 Not looking where she was going, Mayaka's foot caught against the kerb. She stumbled forward and closed her eyes on instinct, bracing for a nasty fall.

 "- hey!" she squeaked when a hand, gentle but steady on her waist, stopped her from falling over. Mayaka caught her breath as she was flipped over, and before she could regain her bearings, she was staring up into familiar eyes. It reminded her of a night with a broken vase and someone's hand over hers, asking her if she was hurt, how close he had been then, and how she hadn't been able to slam the handcuffs on him even though it would have been effortless. Mayaka froze. Her heart pummelled against her ribcage, and the more she forced herself to face it head on, the more she understood. 

 For the first time since this entire case started, Mayaka had finally figured something out. 

 Fukube smiled at her. 

 "Greetings, Mayaka."

 


	2. me and the detective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I passed out one night and then when I woke up this had already written itself. I don’t know what came over me, but I hope this is a sequel that lives up to expectations! I’d suggest that you skim through ‘you and mystery’ first if you haven’t already as this second part ties up all the loose ends I left hanging there (I hope so, anyway!). 
> 
> If you feel that the writing style is different from the first part, I can only attribute it to the fact that I’ve been translating a lot of excerpts from the Hyouka volumes lately. I feel like Houtarou’s narrative voice has taken over somewhat haha. Anyway, thank you for reading this!

**(1)**

“It’ll be simple,” Satoshi had said.

“You won’t even break a sweat,” Satoshi had said.

“You can do it, Houtarou!” Satoshi had lied right through his teeth.

The more Houtarou thought about it as he tried to outrun a gaining coupe, the more he had to grudgingly accept that it was his fault for trusting a wanted man in the first place. The both of them had expected Ibara to have a new partner, and that was why Satoshi had asked him to be the lookout for tonight’s heist. What hadn’t been predicted was that they would have a vehicle with them. And so, Houtarou was saddled with the worst possible task of _running away_.

He had only dashed down a few streets and already he was out of breath. Detective or criminal, both jobs required intelligence and perhaps a bit of luck, but never stamina. His calling was probably somewhere else, he thought dryly. Perhaps after this, he would try his luck in a third job. Maybe abstract painting. Maybe flower arrangement. That all sounded perfectly sane and optimistic, it was a shame that he had to deal with this first.

He rounded off the street corner and ran up to the sharp metal gates of a closed park. It creaked loudly as he jammed his shoulder against it, making a small opening for him to just squeeze through. Not only was this leading him to their way of escape, but it would hopefully remove the coupe from the picture as well.

If Ibara was the one chasing him, she wouldn’t have cared if he ran off a cliff, she’d drive right after him – that was how scary her one-track minded determination could be. He hoped that his replacement wasn’t as horrifying as Ibara. Few people were.  

He leaned against a tree, heaving air in and out of his lungs as he heard the coupe brake to a stop just in front of the park. Its driver even bothered to switch off the engine and headlights before getting out of the car and slamming the door behind them. Houtarou knew that he would have to get moving or he’d get caught, but as he pushed off the tree trunk, his feet wobbled.

That was it. He decided to that it wasn’t worth it anymore. He had quite enough energy expenditure for the night.

Houtarou picked his hat off the ground and trudged over to a wooden bench as a young girl about his age ran up to him.

“Um, sir…” The girl blinked at him. “Are you alright?”

Not the first thing he was expecting to hear.

“No, but I’ll live,” he gasped as he collapsed on the bench.  
  
“That’s a relief,” she said with a hopeful lilt.

This person was peculiar.

“If so, could you come quietly with me after you’ve had a good break? That would be very helpful!” she stepped up to him and asked. 

Houtarou had to shrug off her overbearing politeness. “What are you taking me in for?”

“For stealing, of course.”

Houtarou spread his arms wide open. He even went as far as to shake them a little to prove that he wasn’t carrying anything under his large black cloak. “I haven’t stolen a thing.” And he was telling the truth. The painting was with Satoshi, after all.

The girl’s hand flew to her chin. “Oh my, you’re right!”

She was taking him seriously. Wasn’t she being much too easy to convince? Or perhaps this was all an act, a grave act of deception crafted by this otherwise pleasant-looking girl. Houtarou wouldn’t be fooled. He had enough training and experience in the field to read a person through their eyes. He proceeded to glare up at her.

Big mistake. Look away from those eyes. Look away, now.

Having caught his breath, Houtarou got onto his feet and turned to leave. “Alright then, good night.”

“Wait!”

He jerked back down on the bench as she latched onto his cloak.

He shouldn’t have let Satoshi talk him into wearing this get-up. Still, Houtarou had to admit that somewhere, deep down, what existed of his self-esteem had thought that it made him look rather nice. Most importantly, he didn’t need to wear a stuffy tie like he was made to when he’d been working for the detective agency. Tying neck ties wasted so much energy, never mind the fact that he was terrible at it.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you go.” Of all things, the girl sounded apologetic as she handcuffed his hand to hers.

“Why not?”

“I’ll think of something! Please just wait until then!”

Was she actually asking him to wait for her to come up with a reason? Houtarou was dumbfounded by this intricate web of mind games she was weaving around him. He hazarded a glance at her again, and was drawn into those large, clear eyes. They were bright and sincere, absent of any hidden agendas. He had never seen eyes like that before. After working at the Irisu Detective Agency for five years, he was so used to staring point blank into lies and deceit, into monotonous darkness. But this girl, she lacked any of that. She was just a naïve novice.

Just who was this girl?

“Oh!” she exclaimed as she leaned closer and examined him. Houtarou edged away, uncomfortable with the way she intruded his personal space.

“You’re Mr Houtarou Oreki, aren’t you? I’ve seen your face before in my files,” she said, tilting her delicate chin.

“I am.” There was no reason to lie now. Ibara had probably found him out too. “Who are you?”

“I’m Eru Chitanda, pleased to meet you!”

So, this Chitanda person was his replacement.

“I see,” was the only thing he could say to fill the awkward silence.  

With the way she was gripping onto him, he would have no choice but to wait here for Satoshi to come to his rescue. Despite everything that he had suffered through tonight, he knew he could trust Satoshi with that at least.

 “So, have you come up with a reason to take me in?” he asked. Tonight was becoming more and more bizarre. Houtarou had given up on predicting what was to come next. At least he could save some energy that way.

“Um, I’m afraid not,” Chitanda admitted with a sheepish smile. “But I’ll continue thinking about it.”

Honestly, Houtarou could name a few things off the top of his head: trespassing on private property, being marked as a suspicious individual, running from the law. The list grew longer the more he thought, and he would probably be compelled to lecture her on the basics of law enforcement if he was still a detective.

“In the meantime, Oreki-san,” Chitanda stared at him and cleared her throat. “I’m curious.”

“About what?”

The moon was awfully bright. The park was quite peaceful and not as scary as he’d imagined it to be at night.

“About why you decided to turn to a life of heinous crime.”

Couldn’t she phrase that in a nicer way? Houtarou straightened his posture and looked over at her.

“Because I felt like it,” he said simply.

“Why?”

“Because I was sick of my old job.”

“Why?”

Were they going to play this game all night? His energy was slowly being sapped away the more this conversation stretched out. He took it back. Chitanda wasn’t a naïve novice, she was a deadly leech. Houtarou briefly entertained the notion of dealing with Ibara over Chitanda if he were given the choice right now. Satoshi had gotten the easy break. Why was it that Houtarou always got the short end of the stick?

“Because life is horrible,” he answered with finality.

“Oh. How dreadful,” Chitanda commented. “But, why?”

Houtarou groaned.

…

It was a calm Saturday morning when Houtarou rose out of bed.  He washed up in his cramped bathroom and journeyed to the kitchen to fix a mug of bitter coffee before settling down on a chair and picking up a book he had read halfway. As he turned to the chapter where he had left off, he peered over the top of the book to see a young man sitting across from him, a newspaper covering his face.

Houtarou didn’t remember inviting anyone over.

“Ah, you’re awake!” The young man placed the newspaper onto the dining table once he realised Houtarou was in the room. “I was waiting here for quite awhile. You’re not an early riser at all.”

“… You’re Fukube, aren’t you?” Houtarou ventured a guess.

The male smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you!”

“You’re annoyingly happy,” Houtarou said as he continued to read his novel.

“And you’re not reaching for the phone or attempting to apprehend me,” Fukube observed, a delighted expression plastered on his face.

“Not yet,” Houtarou amended. “You must have a reason for seeking me out, so let me hear it first.”

“As expected from the top detective of the Irisu Detective Agency!” Fukube made a large flourish with his arms.

Houtarou flipped a page. “Get on with it,” he yawned behind one hand.

“You interest me, Houtarou Oreki.”

“The same way Ibara interests you?” Houtarou asked, never looking up from his book.

Fukube paused for a brief moment. Then, a wide smile unfurled on his face.

“What if I said ‘yes’?”

Houtarou leaned back against the chair before replying, “Then, I appreciate the unhealthy obsession but will have to humbly decline your feelings.”

Fukube burst out laughing, clutching his stomach for added theatrics.

“You’re cute. Not in the way Mayaka’s cute. You’re both cute, though,” he said once the giggles had subsided. “How lucky am I to have met both of you.”

Houtarou didn’t know if he should feel honoured or frightened to be compared to Ibara. He decided it wasn’t worth the effort to care.

“So what do you want, exactly?”

“I’d like you to partner up with me,” Fukube said with ease, as if he were talking about going to the café downstairs for tea.

“Not happening,” Houtarou replied. He had a vague premonition that Fukube had something like that in mind. As much as Fukube’s train of thought was interesting enough to warrant Houtarou’s attention, he wasn’t keen on participating in anything that could lead to him waste even more energy than he already was.

“Don’t be like that. Why don’t we make a deal?”

“Sounds complicated,” Houtarou yawned a second time.

“Now, now, Houtarou – can I call you that? I’ll call you that and you can call me Satoshi,” he didn’t wait for a reply before continuing, “Houtarou, it’s not as tiring as it sounds. In fact, I can guarantee that you’ll use less energy working with me. You’ll conserve energy!”

He lowered his book by an inch.

“One week. Give me one week to prove to you that partnering with me is tons more fun than working for that agency.”

“I’m not interested in ‘fun’,” Houtarou spoke curtly.

Satoshi was barely fazed. “That’ll make things even easier for me then!” He took a sip from a cup of tea he had brewed for himself. Wait a minute - that was Houtarou’s favourite teacup…

“Based on my information, it seems that you have to get up early for work, and that Mayaka always sends you out for errands – such as collecting the paintings I’ve been returning – and now, because of me popping up out of nowhere, you’re spending more time at the office too,” Satoshi spilled this like he had memorised all the facts beforehand, or perhaps he was just that talented at harbouring data.

“If you’re convincing me to join you because of this, it’s a flawed argument. I could make my life less tiring by simply turning you in.”

Satoshi held up his index finger and waved it at Houtarou. “Not at all, Houtarou. Let’s say you do catch me one day, and I get locked behind bars. What a sad day that would be for everyone involved. But, aside from that, my capture wouldn’t give you the life you’re looking for. You’ll still have to get up and go to work, Mayaka will still push you around, and you’ve been working long enough to know that there are many more criminals who will appear to keep you busy and deprive you of your rest.”

“Am I right or wrong?” Satoshi finished, placing the teacup down.

Right he was, but Houtarou wasn’t completely sold yet. It was true that recently, this lifestyle began making less and less sense to him. It constantly clashed with his desire to conserve energy. That he had been roped in by Irisu in the first place was a harsh mistake on his part. Still, Satoshi’s argument was that the only way he could get out of it was to join up with a wanted criminal. That seemed to be extreme, didn’t it?

And yet, at the same time, so easy.

He lowered his book even further.

“What I’m trying to say is, I need your wit and you need my ticket to freedom. With me, you’ll be saving energy. I promise you won’t need to do much work at all.”

Those were the magic words.

Houtarou closed his book and looked at Satoshi properly for the first time since the conversation started.

“Have I won you over?”

“No,” Houtarou said. For now, it was the truth.

“Then think about it, alright? No rush, pal!” Satoshi got up and dusted his sleeves before walking to the living room window. So that was how he got in. Houtarou remembered that he had been too lazy to lock it yesterday night.

As Satoshi opened the window, he waved goodbye. “See you soon!”

“Next Monday,” Houtarou told him. That was the day Ibara predicted he would be committing his next robbery.

“Oh, you’re right!”

…

“Ah, Houtarou! Fancy meeting you here!” Satoshi grinned as he walked up the alley with a painting under one arm. Ibara’s plan was going smoothly. “So, have you given a thought about my offer?”

Houtarou didn’t reply.

“See, Houtarou, here's the ideal chance for me to demonstrate why you belong with me. If you were on my side, you wouldn’t need to waste energy trying to catch me now. I bet Mayaka ordered you to do it, didn’t she? I run pretty fast, so you’ll need to use a lot of energy if you want to catch me,” Satoshi babbled, “But if we work together, you can just tell Mayaka that I got away, or that I didn’t come this way. And then, _ta-dah!_ We’ll both be happy!”

“… True.” Houtarou didn’t have the energy to argue with this logic.

“So, do we have a deal?”

Satoshi extended his hand.

Houtarou took a deep breath before shaking the outstretched hand.

“We must meet again to discuss long term prospects.”

…

“I’m curious, Oreki-san!” Chitanda repeated. “Why is it so?”

He was the one who deserved to ask her ‘why’. Why was she so persistent with hearing his side of the story? When he was a detective, Houtarou had always handled cases by solving them and throwing the offender to the police. He never bothered to waste his energy with talking to the culprit unless it was explicitly needed to solve the case. All a detective had to do was their job, and nothing else. That was the best way to utilise their energies.

Yet, this Chitanda person was ignoring all his personal beliefs like they were stop signs on a one way road.

“Let me ask you first,” he said. “Why are you curious?”

Chitanda fell back into silence, giving Houtarou a much needed respite.

“… It’s because I want to understand you.”

Houtarou felt his collar tighten.

“What?”

“I wish to understand you, Oreki-san,” Chitanda said once more. “You were a detective. You and I, we were both on the same side in one point of time. So, I don’t know the reason why you would suddenly change your mind, and I won’t assume that I know. I realised that the only way I could get my answer was to ask you directly.”

What was the use of understanding another person? Houtarou thought.

“What’s the use of that?” he verbalised it, creasing his eyebrows.

“I don’t think there’s a concrete ‘use’ for it,” Chitanda replied frankly. “Oreki-san, do you think that there must be a rational reason behind everything we do?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Well, I don’t agree with that.”                                                                                                                     

Chitanda smiled an embarrassed smile.

**(2)**

Satoshi was very pleased with himself. He managed to catch Mayaka before she had a nasty fall. He wondered if he was like the knight in shining armour. Hopefully, he was on his way to making her fall hopelessly in love with him. With the obvious complications such a development would bring to Mayaka, he’d have an even more enjoyable time dealing with her.

“Fukube,” Mayaka stared to say, as if coming to grips with something, her eyes were unblinking. She gripped onto his wrist as he steadied both of them onto their feet.

“ – I like you.”

That was quick.

“Eh?!” he exclaimed. He hadn’t expected his manoeuvre to be _this_ effective. “Mayaka, are you alright? Did you hit your head on something?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

_Snap!_

She slapped a handcuff onto the wrist she’d been holding without further ado. Satoshi had been too distracted to notice it until he heard the metallic click.

Satoshi had been proven wrong. Mayaka wasn’t hopelessly in love. She was practical in love.  

This only appeared to make her more attractive.

“No! No! Wait!” He had to catch himself before she outran him. Focus, Fukube!

“Mayaka, we’re not – I’m not ready for a relationship. As you can see, uh, I’m not exactly in the right stage of my life right now. I don’t think I can be a good companion. We can still be friends, right? Would that be fine with you?”

Mayaka rolled her eyes, refusing to hold anything back. “Fukube, who do you think I am? Who has been chasing you for half a year?”

“Uh, you.”

“Who wasted numerous nights trying to track you down?”

“… You?”

“So, who do you think should call the shots, huh? The one who’s suffered the most. And I still haven’t forgotten what you did that time at Haba’s. Once I knew just what exactly my feelings were, there was no way I’d let you get away again. You’re so damn full of yourself. It’s infuriating.”

“And you’re as devastating as ever,” Satoshi couldn’t help but sigh and smile. He wasn’t even sure if she was talking about their personal or working relationship.

Mayaka narrowed her eyes. Was she blushing? Satoshi couldn’t see because of the dim street lamps.

“Don’t look at me like that! Remember that you’ve been caught,” she snapped.

Oh right. Right. “You know, it’s hard to concentrate when we’re dealing with two completely separate things at the same time,” Satoshi explained. Their personal relationship had to be differentiated from their working relationship in some way. The problem was that the lines had blurred quite a while ago and Satoshi couldn’t make them out now.

“What are you yammering about?” Mayaka said as she pulled him along with her, walking back the way they’d come. “They’re the same thing to me. Don’t complicate things.”

Mayaka was steamrollering over everything tonight. Satoshi couldn’t say that he hated it. He swung the painting in his free hand as they strolled up the dark street, going right past the Juumonji gallery. Minus the handcuffs, priceless stolen art work, poorly lit surroundings, and ungodly hour, this could even pass off as their first date.

Satoshi battled the urge to bring it up and risk upsetting Mayaka.  

“So, where are we going?”

“To get Oreki,” Mayaka answered, sounding nonchalant.

Her next sentence, however, was not.

“ _I’m going to skin him alive_.”

It’s been nice knowing you, Houtarou.

“He’s probably at the park,” Satoshi said.

“How do you know?”

“Well, he’s my partner.”

Mayaka gave him a full grimace when she heard this. “How did you get him to join you, anyway? I didn’t even know Oreki could be assed to make a life-changing decision.”

“Oh, it’s quite the story,” Satoshi said with a laugh. “Let’s just say I was persuasive and he was open to persuasion.”

Mayaka didn’t reply for the first time since they’d bumped into one another. The resulting silence was a little disconcerting, but Satoshi didn’t mind much. While he was concocting an escape plan, he could enjoy walking beside her. It wasn’t a bad deal at all.

“Why did you have to do that?” Mayaka turned to him and asked. She pressed her lips together and her eyes shined with something like confusion, reflecting all the things she couldn’t understand. “Why did you have to turn him into a criminal? Wasn’t it enough that you were already one?”

Mayaka was a straightforward person with only one way of thinking and understanding things. Satoshi had known that from the first time he met her. It was one of the many things that drew him to her. It was astonishing to meet someone completely unlike him, someone who didn’t run around constructing and tracing and leaving behind mazes, but bulldozed her way through with utter disregard.

He didn’t know how she managed that. They were so different.

 “… Do you know what I wanted to be when was growing up?” Satoshi asked.

Mayaka seemed taken aback by the change in topic. She shook her head as they headed towards the city’s park.

Satoshi gave her a smile. From the way Mayaka lowered an eyebrow and frowned, she must have realised that he was forcing it. Just when had she become able to see through his ruse, and why was he content to confirm it?

“I wanted to be a detective,” he said.

Finally saying it out loud was like a fifteen-year old confession. “But I was never good enough.”

Mayaka’s brow furrowed even more.

“I loved reading ‘Sherlock Holmes’ when I was a kid. Who was your favourite detective, Mayaka? You must have one.”

“Poirot,” she answered without missing a beat. The look she was giving him now was confused, and even worse, searching. She wanted to understand him.

“I was never good enough,” he repeated. It stung less the more he said it, anyway. “But even then, I didn’t want to resign to a boring life. I wanted to do something with myself. Remember what I told you before? It was the truth.”

In the distance, at the end of the main road, he could spot the dark outline of a haphazardly parked coupe. He didn’t have much time left.

“This is the full truth,” he continued.

“Tell me, Mayaka, what is something a detective can’t do without?”

“Intuition,” she answered.

Satoshi nodded. “What else?”

“An eye for detail.” Another nod. “Evidence.” A nod. “Subtlety." Nod.

Mayaka tipped her hat back with the fourth nod. She seemed flustered that she hadn’t gotten the answer he wanted, but she continued offering possibilities.

She righted her homburg. “Knowledge and skill?”

“Think about it in terms of our favourite stories,” Satoshi suggested.

With this one hint, she needed only a second to get the answer. “… A culprit.”

“Bingo!” Satoshi grinned before he could stop himself.

“If I couldn’t be the detective, the main hero, then I’d gladly settle for second best. The culprit. Every detective needs a culprit the same way every culprit needs a detective. A culprit can’t say they’re truly one unless they have a detective on their tail, and without a culprit, a detective wouldn’t even need to go to work. They need one another to exist, don’t they?” Satoshi explained as they approached the half-opened gate.

“I see,” Mayaka was surprisingly attentive.

“Isn’t it true, Mayaka? If I hadn’t appeared, you wouldn’t have been assigned to any big case, and if you weren’t after me, stealing wouldn’t be as fun,” he chuckled.

“And that’s why you return the paintings you take,” Mayaka spoke up, coming to a realisation. “It doesn’t matter to you, does it? It’s only the act that you’re interested in.”

“More or less. And I figured that I wouldn’t be able to sell them off anyway,” Satoshi shrugged. “The moment I decided to become a criminal, I knew that all I wanted was a Holmes for my Moriarty. Just about anyone would do, as long as there was someone who’d see me for who I was.” He paused for a moment. “… I guess I was lucky that I ended up with you, Mayaka.”

Mayaka turned to face him as they walked through the park, emotions swimming in her eyes. Satoshi knew he should look away. He couldn’t like her more than he already did when it was clear that there they wouldn’t become anything. And yet a part of him – a large part of him, didn’t want to.

 “Houtarou probably doesn’t think the way I do. He’s a completely different person.”

“A completely different creature,” Mayaka corrected him.

Satoshi laughed. “Mm. But, this my reason. The reason why I became a fake Moriarty. A cheap imitation.”

“… Satoshi – _ack_ ,” Mayaka caught herself. This time he was sure her face was burning red.

“Yup?” he urged her on. It was nice to hear her say his name.

“I can’t say I understand your reasons for choosing crime,” Mayaka began. “But – about wanting to be someone, becoming like someone you really admire, and doing something you really love and believe in even if you might not be the best at it. That… that I can understand.”

 _Oh_ , Satoshi thought.

Maybe they were alike after all.

…

“Chi-chan! You’re alright!” Mayaka cried out as they approached the two figures sitting on a bench. Satoshi was tugged along at a surprising speed as Mayaka jogged up to her partner.

“You had me a little worried back there! Did this disgusting slug do anything to you?”

Mayaka threw a deadly glower at Houtarou. Houtarou didn’t have any particular reaction to this frightening assault. He must be totally used to it. Satoshi couldn’t decide if he should feel pity, amusement or envy.

“Not at all, Maya-chan. He was very cooperative,” the girl, Chitanda, answered. “And I see that you’ve caught Fukube-san as well!”

Mayaka allowed a satisfied grin to blossom on her face.

As the two girls chattered, Satoshi shuffled so that he was closer to Houtarou, who likewise slid along the bench so that he could hear what Satoshi was whispering. “Distract Chitanda. I’ll distract Mayaka. Then, we make a break for it.”

“Easier said than done,” Houtarou hissed. “She’s hard to handle,” he admitted in a dulled voice.

To think that Houtarou Oreki had finally met his match! Satoshi was interested in Chitanda now, but it was alright. He’d have many other opportunities to get to know her better.

“Aw, just use that Oreki charm and you’ll be fine! Sweep her off her feet!”

“What are you two talking about?” Mayaka interrupted them, her hands on her hips.

“We were talking about how, now that we’ve been caught, we’re at least happy that we were apprehended by you two ladies,” Satoshi started off.

At his cue, Houtarou tapped Chitanda’s shoulder and dropped his eyes to the ground. “You’re… um… I find you… That is… pretty...” He looked like he was in excruciating physical pain. “Uh.”

Chitanda cocked her head. “Pretty? Pretty what, Oreki-san? Pretty tired? Yes, I usually don’t stay up so late. Or do you mean pretty smart? If so, then I’m flattered but that’s certainly not the case. I still have much to learn.”

Wow. Chitanda really was amazing.

He had to show Houtarou how it was done. Say it straight, with enthusiasm and confidence, like so:

“Mayaka, I don’t know why I haven’t said it before, but you’re truly beautiful!”

“… And? What’s your point?”

Mayaka was amazing in her own way too.

Though her face was indeed flushed, her words remained sharp and severe. “Sweet talk is hardly appropriate,” she pointed out. “And consider working on it when you’re doing your time, Satoshi. It’s not impressive at all right now.”

Yes, truly amazing.

Houtarou burned a sidelong glare at Satoshi. Alright, alright. So maybe this plan to disarm the girls with masculine charm wasn’t exactly working out. Maybe it was because he and Houtarou lacked the sort of masculinity required to pull off such a feat, no – don’t think about such a depressing thought at a time like this. Save it for a rainy day. Now, another plan was in order.

“Here, Mayaka.” Satoshi handed the painting over to the girl. She had won this round, so she deserved it back. But she hadn’t won the game, and it only made Satoshi more eager to discover an opening for them, a way to continue the fun.

“Juumonji-san has excellent taste, doesn’t she?” Chitanda said. “She’s my family friend, so I’ve known her since I was young. She’s always had such a good eye for things like these.” She held onto the other side of the painting, propping it into the light of the moon to admire its colours.

“You know Juumoji? That’s fantastic, Chi-chan! We should all meet and have tea one day. I’d love to get to know her.”

“We should! Where do you think we should meet?”

“How about the art museum? Or maybe…”

Satoshi was stunned by this turn of events, and feeling somewhat left out too. He snapped his attention to Houtarou as the boy slapped him softly. Oh, right. For some reason, they had the opening they were waiting for. Houtarou made a discreet gesture with his chin, and Satoshi winked to show that he understood.

One of the many merits of having Houtarou onboard with him was that he had learned how to pick open a handcuff.

By the time Chitanda and Mayaka had decided on where they would have afternoon tea with Juumonji, Satoshi and Houtarou were already tearing down the main pathway leading to the clearing in the middle of the park. Or rather, Satoshi was tearing and frantically dragging Houtarou behind him by the sleeve of his jacket. Satoshi held his hat to his head as he heard two shouts of alarm behind them.

“You promised I wouldn’t sweat,” as exhausted as Houtarou was, it seemed that he didn’t mind wasting precious energy to growl this out through gritted teeth.

“A minor setback!”

Houtarou’s lack of reply was a reply in itself. Satoshi stuck his tongue out in mock apology as they reached their means of a getaway.

The large, white balloon had been tethered to the trunk of a large tree, hidden from view by the immense leaves and the weak light of the moon. Satoshi and Houtarou worked at pulling the balloon out from under leafy shelter and unwinding its thick rope ladder from a messy coil. A passing breeze made their escape twice as fast, and they grabbed onto the length of the ladder as their balloon began floating away.

“Quick, Chi-chan, back to the car!” Mayaka’s voice dwindled below them.

Satoshi laughed as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They aren’t giving up!”

“You don’t know Ibara well enough,” Houtarou spoke with a voice burdened by horrific experience.

“I’ll have plenty more chances to get to know her!” Satoshi assured him. “I hope they’ll be as fun as this night.”

“And I hope not,” Houtarou retorted, frowning at Satoshi’s smile.

…

“So does this mean you’re going to keep engaging with Ibara?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“But it’s clear, isn’t it?” Houtarou clung closer to the rungs of the ladder as he adjusted his monocle. “Nothing can come out of this.”

Satoshi didn’t nod in reply. “I’m don’t think Mayaka agrees. And if she doesn’t agree, then I’m in no position to decide yet either.”

“I’ll never get the both of you,” Houtarou mumbled.

How strange, Satoshi was pretty sure Houtarou understood them perfectly. That was why his sigh was so loud.

“You know Mayaka, she doesn’t give up once she sets her mind on something. She’s got a plan, or she’s going to have one,” Satoshi said, leaning his weight to one side of the rope ladder and directing them across the skies. The scattered lights of the city below mirrored the stars just above them.

“And you live to mess up plans,” Houtarou concluded. Something that could be Houtarou’s equivalent of a smile - a tiny and awkward and crooked one - appeared on his face.

Satoshi grinned at this.

“Well, I am Moriarty after all.”


End file.
